


Pout Off

by kat_snow2613



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 12:28:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8489683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kat_snow2613/pseuds/kat_snow2613
Summary: This is my Jonsa Modern AU inspired by the infamous post Emmy's Pout Off Pic!





	1. Pout Off: Part One

It’s Robb’s sister. His sister. He will murder you if you hook up with his sister at his wedding. 

The threat of murder wasn’t helping the straps of Sansa’s dress stay in place.

It was the end of the night and most of the guests had left. The newlyweds had a rowdy sendoff as they went up to their suite, followed shortly after by the older generation. The last few Starks–and Jon–were gathered in the bar of the hotel. 

“You guys, like, I just love you all so much. And I just can’t believe that Robb is married. He’s married you guys,” Sansa said, pulling her hair out from her matching bridesmaid’s bun, letting it fall around her shoulders in waves. Jon pretended to check something on his phone to distract himself.

A thought seemed to suddenly occur to Sansa. “You guys. We should do shots,” she proclaimed. 

Arya snorted. “I think you’ve had enough, Sans.”

“It’s going to be a long drive home tomorrow, and I don’t want to hear you bitching the whole time,” Bran mumbled, although his considerable time at the bar that evening was sure to leave him hungover the next morning. 

“You guys are no fun. Fine. What about you, Jon?” she asked, walking up to him and throwing her arm around him. “Will you do a shot with me?”

This close to her, he could smell her, everything about her. He could smell the champagne on her breath, the sweet smell of flowers from carrying around her bouquet, the richness of some expensive perfume. It all immediately went to his head. He had to focus. 

“No, I’m alright,” he stated.

Sansa was not pleased. 

“Oh, look at me, I’m Jon Snow. I’m so serious. I’m always so serious. It’s my best friend’s wedding but I’m still Mr. Pouty Face.” 

“I am not Mr. Pouty Face,” Jon said as seriously as he could. 

“You are the King of Pout, Mr. Snow,” Sansa said. She made an emphatic pout to further state her case. He couldn’t help but notice the curve of her lips.

“You know what, I will do that shot,” Jon said as he untangled himself from Sansa and walked up to the bar. “Two Maker’s Marks.”

“Yes!” Sansa shouted.

“Oh Christ,” Arya muttered.

The bartender poured the shots and slid them across the bar. Jon handed one to Sansa. 

“Wait, what is this?” she asked, eyeing the amber liquid.

“It’s bourbon, you’ll love it,” he said, raising the shot. He looked into her eyes. 

“To Robb and Jeyne.”

She met his gaze. “To Robb and Jeyne.” They threw back the liquor. Jon watched her face for a reaction. Her eyes watered briefly, but she recovered and let out a whoop. “To Robb and Jeynnnnnne!”

Jon couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Oh look, I made Mr. Pouty Face laugh!” Sansa exclaimed triumphantly. 

“I’m not a Pouty Face, I don’t know why you’re saying that,” Jon said.

“No one pouts better than you,” Sansa stated.

“I don’t know, you were pouting with the best of them earlier.”

“Well. There’s only one way to settle this. A good old fashioned pout off,” she said, struggling to get her phone out of her microscopic purse. “Arya, I need you to take our picture for the Pout Off.”

“What the fuck is a Pout Off,” Arya demanded,

“It’s the best thing ever that I just made up. We’re going to see who pouts better, me or Jon,” Sansa said.

“You two are mental," Arya said, rolling her eyes.

“Yup, now take the damn picture,” she said as she handed the phone to her sister. 

She stumbled into him, so he to put his hand on her back to steady her. He could feel the curve of her back through the thin fabric. She scrunched down to get closer to him, and leaned back. Her hair brushed his cheek. There was that smell again, innocent and decadent all at once. “Okay now Jon, pout.”

He wasn’t sure if he looked annoyed, or distracted, or constipated, like he felt he usually looked in pictures, but as long as it didn’t look like was thinking about fucking Sansa, he’d consider it a victory.

“Here, losers,” Arya said, handing them Sansa’s iPhone. 

Jon looked at the picture. He had failed. All he could do now was hope that Sansa didn’t include that in her post about the wedding, because if Robb saw that picture, he was dead. 

“Look at that pout! I think it’s clear who the winner of the Pout Off is!” Sansa giggled.

“Yeah. Um, I’ve got to go to the bathroom.” 

He left Sansa looking confused and turned for the men’s room. He sat on bench in the marble room, his head in his hands for some time. He wanted to go back out there, and carry Sansa back to his room. He wanted to pull that dress off of her and touch every inch of her. He wanted her to wake up in his bed, and get her an egg sandwich with runny yolks like she always craved when she was hungover. He wanted. But he couldn’t do that to Robb, to the Starks, who’d been there for him through so much. He drew a deep breath and returned to the bar.

He’d expected to find the three of them laughing and joking but instead found the bar empty. He settled his tab and went into the lobby.

He found Sansa standing by herself at the elevator, looking through her purse.

“Where did everyone go?” he asked.

“Outside to smoke weed. It makes me dizzy. I can’t find that stupid key card.”

“Here.” He took the sparkly bag from her and fished out the key card. “I’ll walk you to your room.” They got on the elevator with it’s thick red carpets and gold framed mirrors. 

“Are you okay Jon?” she asked him, leaning back against the mirror.

“I’m fine Sansa,” he said.

“You’re just always so serious,” she smiled and reached up to pinch his cheek.

“You know me.”

The doors dinged open and they walked to Sansa’s door. She fumbled with the lock before getting into the room. “Goodnight Jonny McPoutFace.”

“Good night Sansa,” he said, looking one last time at the waves of her hair and the lines of her body beneath her black dress. He’d heard girls say you only ever wore a bridesmaids dress once. He’d probably never see her in that dress again. 

“Sansa?”

She glanced up at him while shoving her things into her purse.

“You look beautiful.”


	2. Pout Off, Part Two: Pout Off Champion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Second Part of Pout Off!

“Jon?”

Jon stopped and turned back towards the door.

“Can you come in for a second?” she asked softly.

He briefly considered turning and bolting for the fire exit. He thought about jumping out of the window. All of those seemed preferable to dealing with the current situation. His best friend’s sister—his own sister in so many ways—had just asked him into her hotel room, while the straps of her lacy black dress kept falling off. 

“What? What do you mean?” he blurted.

“Just…this dress is a nightmare to get out of. Arya has nearly killed me three times. Can you help me?” she asked, balancing the open door on her hip.

Oh, he thought. That’s it. She just wants you to come into her hotel room at 2am to help get her out of her lacy black dress. No reason to panic.

He wordlessly followed her into her room. He felt like he was outside of his own body, looking down at the situation, screaming. 

She flipped on the light in the bathroom. She stood with her back to him. Pulling her hair over her shoulder, she motioned to the back of the dress. “There’s a clasp. You’ve got to undo it.”

He squinted. The metal loop was approximately one micron across. What was worse, the dress was tight on her, so there was pressure keeping it shut. He tried gingerly to get the hook free, to no avail. He had to rest his hands on her back to get leverage. Her skin was soft and warm. He tried to focus on the clasp. He said a quick prayer, and it came free.

“Got it,” he said.

“Great, now just pull the zipper down.”

He cursed the gods he had just prayed to and obliged. More of her porcelain skin was revealed. He swore he saw the top of a black thong and nearly passed out. 

“Thanks, just give me a second to change,” she said, holding the dress up with her hands and scooting into the bathroom. “I’ll be right out, have a seat!” she shouted through the closed door. He should have taken the opportunity to leave, but now that she was in the bathroom, he supposed he had to wait.

He looked around. Every single possible surface was covered by wedding gifts, bags, clothes, and shoes. Arya’s bed was covered with her things as well. He moved a few presents out of the way and sat down on a plush chair. 

She emerged in a pair of sweatpants and a tank top and looked just as beautiful as she had in the dress.

She rummaged through one of the seven hundred bags in the room and produced some water bottles and a bag of trail mix. Only Sansa would think to pack snacks. She always thought of everything, for everyone.

She sat next to him and opened the trail mix. “I can’t believe he’s married, ya know? Robb’s married,” she mumbled around peanuts and chocolate. 

“Yeah. It just seems like just a grown up thing for someone who once rode his dirt bike through your neighbor’s hedges,” Jon smiled at the memory.

Sansa burst out laughing. “Oh my god, I remember that. My Dad came out yelling at the top of his lungs, I thought he was going to kill Robb.” The two quieted for a moment. 

“I wish he could have been here tonight,” she said quietly.

“Me too. I think about him all the time. I was trying to fix my sink the other day and I couldn’t figure it out. The phone was in my hand before I remembered I couldn’t call him.” Jon always felt guilty telling the Starks how much he missed their father, so he tried not to do it, but in the moment it just seemed right.

She smiled. “He could fix anything.” She took a long sip of her water. “Do you think he would have liked Jeyne?” she asked.

“Well, she calls Robb out on his shit, so yeah, I think he would have loved her,” Jon stated.

Sansa nodded. “Jon I feel like I never really thanked you, for everything. You put your life on hold for the funeral. And you did the same for this wedding. “

Jon blushed. “It’s nothing. Not after everything you guys have done for me. I owe you all so much,” he said, avoiding eye contact.

“You owe us nothing. We do it because we love you.”

And there it was. The Starks loved their adopted brother and son ever since Lyanna had moved down the street. They had given him everything, no questions asked. And no matter how much he wanted to be with Sansa, he could not repay their kindness that way. And it didn’t matter. Sansa was meant to be with someone with a law degree who came from a good family. Not someone from a broken home.

“Some of us love you more than others,” Sansa continued.

“Well, Rick is pretty much always trying to kill me. And your mom never really forgave me for the potted plant incident,” Jon tried to laugh. 

“No, Jon. That’s not what I meant,” she stated, putting her water down. 

“Well what do you mean San?” Jon questioned, growing annoyed with himself for staying in the situation that was only going to hurt him.

“I mean that I love you.”

Blood rushed to Jon’s ears. He had to get out of here. This wasn’t fair. This wasn’t right.

“I’ve got to go Sansa,” Jon stood and made for the door.

“Jon wait,” she said grabbing his arm. “I tell you that I love you and you’re going to just leave?”

“Yes. I am. Because that’s not fair and you know it. You can say that to me, but I can’t say that to you,” he cursed. 

“Do you love me?” she asked, desperately clinging to his arm.

“Of course I do. You know that I do. I’ve loved you since I was ten years old.”

She clung to him with both hands now, refusing to let go. Her hair was such a mess. It was sticking to his shirt. Her hair always stuck to everything. He gathered it in both of his hands and pulled her mouth to his. 

Her lips were so soft and sweet he hated to crush them against his own, but he had to. He had to hold her gorgeous hair and her soft skin and hold her as tightly against himself as he could. The more he tried to be gentle, the rougher he got, wrapping himself around her. When she moaned the sweetest sound he’d ever heard, he picked her up and carried her to the bed.

With the height difference eliminated, he could properly kiss all of her face and ears. She turned her face to give him access to the shell of her ear. She snaked her hands up his back. She clutched at his muscles. Jon had never felt particularly strong or impressive, but with Sansa’s hands on him he felt like a king. 

He kissed her mouth ten times. He stopped, and kissed her long and deep. She tried to keep up.

“I can’t believe I’m kissing you,” he whispered against her lips.

“I know. Don’t stop,” she urged.

“Okay,” he continued biting and pulling her lips and tongue.

He slid a hand on top of her tank top. Did he dare? If he felt whatever was underneath that stretchy black ‘bridesmaid’ tank top, there was no stopping him.

His fingers crawled underneath. More of her sweet skin. Her soft tummy pillowed up around his fingers. He caressed it, wanting more. His hand crept up to her breast. Her nipple felt like silk in his hand. He tugged on it and she gasped under his mouth. “I want you Jon,” she moaned underneath him. 

How many times had Jon dreamed of hearing that? How many sleepless nights? How many times had he told himself it would never happen?

Jon wanted nothing more than to dive into her and never look back. But his mind kept turning to the door, thinking that this room was shared with Arya and she could come in at any moment. 

He pulled his hand away from her breast and propped himself up on his arms. He gave her tiny kisses all over her face. “Soon, I promise. But not like this. Not our first time,” he promised. 

“When?” she cried, running her hands over his chest. 

“Drive home with me tomorrow. We’ll have the whole house to ourselves,” he whispered, kissing her cheek.

“Fine,” she consented resentfully.

“Now don’t you be the Pouty One,” he said against her face. 

“That’s a lot coming from the Pout Off Champion,” she said, tugging on his beard to get him to kiss her again. Jon allowed her to lead him to the thing he wanted most in the world. 

They kissed. It sweet and gentle and hungry and dirty all at the same time. 

“I should go,” he said, dreading it.

“I wish you’d stay.”

“Me too, but I don’t think Arya would be please with the situation,” Jon said, pulling himself away.

They straightened themselves out and met by the door. They kissed one last time. “I’ll see you tomorrow, beautiful.” He slipped from the door.

Out in the hallway it felt like a different universe. It was a universe where he’d kissed Sansa Stark. A universe where she’d told Jon she loved him and wanted him to stay in her bed.

He wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry. He wanted to run down the hall screaming ‘I kissed Sansa!’ He settled for smiling like an idiot as he walked back to his room.

He turned a corner and nearly crashed directly into Robb.

“Hey man,” his best friend laughed. “How’s it going?”

“Nothing, what are you doing?”

Robb gestured to the ice bucket in his hand, “Jeyne wanted some ice for the room.”

“Oh, cool,” Jon said, though he wasn’t sure why.

“Yeah. Well it is ice,” Robb laughed. “Hey, I wanted to thank you again for the speech, it really meant a lot to me.”

“Anytime,” Jon said.

“Well really, just the one time. Not to be gross, but I hope to do the same for you one day,” Robb said seriously, his hand on Jon’s shoulder.

Jon lifted his hand to his mouth. He hoped it came across that he was overcome with emotion, but really, he was trying to cover any traces of Sansa’s lipstick on his lips.

“That means a lot man.”

“Of course,” Robb slapped him on the shoulder. “Alright, well I should get back to the room. See you tomorrow at the brunch.”


	3. Pout Off, Part Three:  The Final Pout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pout Off, Part Three: The Final Pout

Jon wasn’t sure how things could have changed so quickly. Just last night, he was in Sansa’s bed, touching her and kissing her and feeling her, and now he was sitting at brunch, surrounded by her family. He took a long gulp of coffee. Sansa sat next to him, arranging the fruit on her plate in different shapes.

  
“What happened to the two of you last night? Jon went to the bathroom and then we didn’t see either of you for the rest of the night?” Bran asked, loudly.

  
“Nothing.”

  
“We just went to bed.”

  
Bran gave them a hard look. As usual, he seemed to know more than he possibly could.

  
Arya interjected, “Well Jon and Sansa had quite the Pout Off last night.”

  
Robb had been chatting with guests and finally had a chance to sit. “What the hell is a Pout Off?” he asked, reaching for the bacon.

  
“Nothing.”

  
“Just a silly thing we made up.”

  
Arya continued, “They took some stupid pictures while they we’re pouting. Rather lame, actually.”

  
“Well let me see,” Robb said as he wolfed down breakfast.

  
Jon sat as still as a statue. Sansa clenched her jaw and shot a nasty look at Arya before reaching into her purse and pulling out her phone. She swiped to the picture and handed it to Robb.

  
“Oh,” Robb said, eying the phone.

  
“Just some silly drunken fun,” Sansa said, grabbing it back.

  
A few of Jeyne’s aunts came over to chat up Robb and his attention was stolen again. Jon exhaled for the first time in a few moments. The rest of brunch was sufficiently awkward, and then the rest of the morning was filled with everyone running around and packing up the cars. He was dying to have just a minute alone with Sansa.

  
He waited until he saw the elevator doors close on Arya, juggling her bags and a boxed blender.

  
Arya had left the door to their room propped open. He quickly slid into their room and closed the door. Sansa was struggling to shove things into her bag. When she saw Jon, she abandoned the task and went to him. They kissed so quickly he was hoping he didn’t imagine it. She rested her hands on his neck and he was certain it was real.

  
“How are you?” she asked.

  
“Oh, you know, birds chirping, sun shining, the usual,” he said, tracing circles on the small of her back.

  
She didn’t waste any time. “We need a reason that we’re driving home together. The outlet malls. You need new hockey gloves and I need a new clutch,” she rushed.

  
Jon was stunned for a second at the detail of the lie, and how quickly it came to her. The shock on his face must have been evident.

  
“It’s just for now. I know you don’t like it but it’s what we need to do, just for today,” she said, leaning into him. “Okay,” he kissed her forehead.  
They pulled away.

“Are you almost ready?” he asked, anxious to be out of this hotel with so many people everywhere.

  
“I just need to get my stuff into that damn bag.”

  
Jon grabbed the massively overstuffed duffel. He shoved, grunted, and closed the bag.  
“My hero,” she smiled.

  
He swung the bag over his shoulder. “Let’s go, princess.”

  
In the parking lot of the hotel everyone was stuffing things into their trunks and running around to give everyone one last kiss goodbye. Jon’s SUV was packed with clothes, decorations, and gifts. He tossed in his small garment bag and Sansa’s massive duffel.

  
“Oy, Sans, you ready?” Arya shouted from her car, where Bran was already waiting.

  
“Thanks, I’m gonna head back with Jon. We’re gonna stop at the outlets,” Sansa said smoothly.

  
“I need new hockey gloves,” Jon volunteered stupidly.

  
“Hockey gloves?” Arya asked, staring suspiciously at the two of them.

  
“Yup. Just have to pick up a few things. We’ll see you later at home,” Sansa waved.

  
They got in the car. Everyone finally departed for their various routes. They were a solid ten miles away from the hotel before they both exhaled and started laughing.

  
“Radio?” she asked, turning the dial.

  
“Yeah, radio.” She settled on a station. They both just kept looking over at each other and smiling. Jon reached over and took her hand. She grinned, saying, “You’re holding my hand.”

  
“Yeah, I am,” he said, squeezing it.

  
“That’s crazy.”

  
“What, I’ve held your hand before,” he said.

  
“Nuh uh,” she protested.

  
“Yuh huh,” he insisted.

  
“When?”

  
“Well, when you were in third grade and that mean girl made you cry by saying you still wet the bed,” he started.

  
“Ugh, Brittany Fitzpatrick, I hated that bitch,” Sansa spat.

  
“And then in eighth grade, when you said you could handle the haunted house even though you clearly could not,” he finished, watching the highway roll by.

  
“That whole thing was admittedly terrifying, I didn’t know there’d be real people in it,” she said, still defensive after all these years.

  
“I tried to warn you.”

  
There was a silence. She ran her thumb over his knuckles. “You held my hand until we made it out of there,” she recalled. He nodded.

  
“I can’t believe you remember that,” she said.

  
“Yeah, I guess.”

  
They passed the sign for the outlet malls. “Want to go the mall?” he joked.

  
“No, let’s just get home.”

  
An hour later they pulled into Jon’s driveway . They grabbed a few of the bags and brought them into the house. Jon began to turn on lights and tidy up the mess that he’d left in a hurry to leave on time for the wedding.

  
“Do you want something to drink?” he asked her.

  
“Maybe just some tea.”

  
He started water boiling while he tried to put dishes away. He turned around and she was standing there, checking out his kitchen.

  
“I like your kitchen,” she complimented.

  
_It’s all for you. Everything is for you Sansa. Every class I’ve ever taken. Every cent of student debt that I’m in. This house. I’d be a mechanic living above a garage if it weren’t for trying to impress you. It’s all for you._

  
“Thanks.” The kettle went off and he poured the water into his favorite mug.

  
He fished a tea bag from the cupboard and handed it to her. She toyed with the bag for a while, dunking it in the hot water. Jon suddenly had a realization and started to panic. What if Sansa was regretting last night? What if it was just a drunken make out session to her? They hadn’t really thought this through or talked about it at all.

  
“Sansa, you know, we….we don’t have to do anything. We can just hang out and watch a movie or something,” he rushed out.

  
Sansa put down the mug and walked over to Jon. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, pushing him back against the counter.  
Jon responded in kind. He reached down, grabbing her ass. Heat spread all over his body. There was a dull ache in his groin. He picked her up, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He carried her into his room.

  
They toppled on to the bed as he pulled her shirt off. He nearly came at the site of her black lace bra against her pale skin. It made the memory of her dress even sexier. She tugged on his shirt. The feeling of their skin pressed against each other was almost too much. He could barely unhook her bra but when he did he found the most beautiful breasts he’d ever seen. He cupped and stroked them, doing his best to be patient, when all he wanted to do was devour her.

  
She wiggled out of her pants and he followed suit. A thousand thoughts darted through his head but they all kept slipping away at the site of Sansa’s body prone before him. He climbed on top of her. It was too tight at first and she bucked away from him. He pulled back to give her time and then eased in. Then everything was hazy. He was lost in her hair and skin. She arched her legs around him. He knew things would end embarrassingly soon if they continued like this.

  
He pulled away and lay on his stomach between her legs. She was salty and sweet on his lips and tongue. He dug his fingers into her hip bones to pull her closer to his mouth. She was moaning and tugging on his hair. She gasped his name in quick succession and it was too much for him. He thrust against the bed while she thrust against him. She shuddered and lay still, sighing. He kissed her thighs and wiped his beard on his hand before crawling back up to her and holding her.

“What about you?” she asked.

  
“Um, I already did,” he admitted. “On the sheets. Kind of embarrassing.”

  
“Kind of hot,” she said before kissing him.

  
They snuggled into one another. Jon thought about asking Sansa a hundred questions, but instead he fell asleep.

  
He woke up when Sansa was climbing into bed with a mug of tea wearing one of his old workout shirts. It was darker in the room, setting sun coming through the blinds.

  
“Hi sleepy,” she said, pulling the covers back around her and setting the mug on the nightstand.

  
“Hi beautiful,” he mumbled, pulling her to him. “How long was I out?”

  
“A few hours,” she said, snuggling closer to him.

  
“You should have woken me,” he said.

  
“I figured you needed the rest. It was a late night last night.”

  
They snuggled until Jon realized that he was starving.  “What do you want for dinner?” he asked, playing with her hair.  
“Pizza,” she said, not missing a beat.

  
A little while later they were sitting around his kitchen table demolishing a pepperoni pizza. Sansa still wore nothing but a t shirt, and Jon had on only a pair of shorts. They’d cracked open a few beers. Sansa burped loudly.

  
“This is hardly what I pictured for our first date,” Jon admitted.

  
Sansa raised an eyebrow at him. “Is this a date then?”

  
“I hope so.”

  
“Pizza and beer in our underwear, so romantic.”

  
“Then how about Thursday night at Raphael’s?” Jon asked, mentioning the nicest place he could think of on short notice.

  
“I don’t know, I might have to wash my hair that night,” she said, getting up to grab a beer from the fridge.

  
“Well hopefully you can squeeze me in,” he said, watching her long legs.

  
She stared into the fridge. “You’re out of pilsner.”

  
“Yeah, only had a few left. There’s IPA though,” he said around a slice of pizza.

  
She popped open an IPA . “I like pilsner better,” she said, making an exaggerated pout.

  
Jon grabbed her and pulled her into his lap.

  
“You better be careful with those pouts, miss. Look where it got you,” he said as he snaked his hands around her waist.

  
She wrapped an arm around his shoulders. She smiled at him.

  
“It got me exactly where I wanted to be.”


End file.
